All In The Cards
by Tryem Loir
Summary: KandaAllen. Life, like a card game, is a gamble. So how is love, or a lack thereof, any different? Drabbles and oneshots
1. Freak

From here on out I'll be archiving my drabbles/one-shots here for the LJ theme challenge: 30 Romances.

Themes aren't in order. Just depends what and when I decide to do them.

Why WOULDN'T I do this pairing? Kanda/Allen is in need of more love! Spread it!

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**Title:** Caprice  
**Rating:** R-ish  
**Warnings:** Sexual references, established relationship, mild crack!fetish/kink  
**Summary:** Allen develops a growing obsession with Kanda's hair.

**Theme:** #32: Freak

**Caprice** - a sudden desire.

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Allen was fascinated by Kanda's hair.

It was smooth and shiny like black glass, rippling like a pebble breaking a watery surface whenever he dared to touch the older exorcist. That is to say, if he moved quickly enough. Kanda had seemed to have gotten it into his head that Allen had developed some sort of freaky fixation with his person and had taken to using his Mugen as a radial barrier.

Allen huffed at that. Really, it wasn't as if he were committing a public indecency. Then again, he reminded himself, this was Kanda, and the young exorcist had a feeling that if Kanda were to have any say in world affairs, breathing would soon be outlawed.

'I suppose that doesn't really matter,' he sighed, flapping his hand aimlessly. Talking to Kanda was as lively as talking to a wall. The raven haired exorcist was sitting across from him, eyes elsewhere; remaining expressionless throughout Allen's entire speech about illegalities of breathing, secretly entertaining the idea that yes, the world would be a much more quieter place without oxygen. Especially when you had fools like Komui wasting it.

'It could be quite a good thing if you think about it,' Allen continued on, not really caring if Kanda was paying him attention any longer. He eyed the rope of thick black hair with longing, intrigued by the way it swept across the table, pooling against the surface whenever the other exorcist moved his head. Allen made a pained noise in the back of his throat.

Surely it was written somewhere in the Bible that looking that beautiful was a sin against God.

Allen grinned, knowing he was beyond all hope, and leaned forward on his elbows, invading Kanda's breathing space. A tiny muscle under those cobalt coloured eyes twitched and Kanda glared at him, hard enough to melt the stone of the Black Order HQ off its foundations.

'_What_, beansprout?'

Roughly that meant 'Get the fuck out of my face.'

Allen continued to smile at him in that annoying, omniscient way. He was feeling bold, brushing at Kanda's bangs with his fingertips, texture soft against his skin. He hadn't tried to bite his hand off yet – always a good sign.

If this was sin, and temptation was right in front of him, he'd be damned if he didn't take a bite of the serpent's apple. 'Think about it Kanda,' he said cheerfully, leaning further forward, until the tips of their noses were brushing.

'I could kiss you all the time and never have to worry about coming up for air.'

He was still grinning seconds later after Kanda had wrenched his head down, attempted to asphyxiate him through 'mouth-to-mouth' contact and then slugged him in the jaw before stalking off.

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Kanda was quite certain he didn't want to know how exactly this little 'fetish' had come about, but it was getting rather creepy and annoying all the same.

He noticed the 'looks' a lot now, often coupled with an invasion of curious, wandering hands.

When they were lucky enough (or unlucky depending on how you looked at it, Kanda thought) to be assigned missions together, and he wore his hair up and out of the way, Allen would stare, which was funny, because he could never recall the younger boy staring at him in the past, least of all like _that_.

Sometimes they'd kiss, in a back alley, in a hotel room or even in plain sight, because Allen was sweet and it was _wrong_, and Kanda could have really cared less. Sometimes, when he lifted that slight frame onto its toes and ran his mouth along a smooth expanse of neck, he would feel lips curve and rise against his forehead and for reasons unknown it would irritate him and he would snap.

'Why are you smiling?'

And Allen would laugh. He would shake in Kanda's arms and kiss his forehead, nudging away his hair with his nose, offering no explanation for his behaviour and often receiving a sharp bite to the neck for his insolence.

When his hair came free during battle with the Akuma, or hung loose and flat against his shoulders, plastered to his skin after a hot shower, Allen wouldn't stare; rather if it was the former he simply wouldn't have had the time (and if he did, Kanda always threatened prior to the fight to slice him in half), and if it was the latter, he would colour a brilliant shade of red and glance at Kanda shyly out of the corner of his eye.

Kanda understood this strange, blushing behaviour almost as well as he understood the beansprout's often surprising boldness and obsession with his hair. It wasn't like Allen _hadn't_ seen him naked before.

The tendrils would trail over his pectorals and down his back, damp with water, curving over the Sanskrit tattoo over his heart, curling stubbornly and sticking to his nipples. Sometimes they would end up having wet, slippery sex on the floor, and sometimes Kanda would detach himself from lust altogether and bark at the younger male for being a lousy exorcist and tell him off for being unable to control himself during a mission.

Mornings were the worst. Sleep-rumpled and tangled, the mess that was his hair would become Allen's plaything, and he would run his hand through it, petting it down and unknotting all the tangles while Kanda slept. Other times he would doze or pretend to, too lazy to get up and face the world, or to smack Allen with his katana, mostly because those fingers massaging his scalp were starting to feel really, _really_ good.

When he took time off from his duties he would coil his hair and bind it into a long rope – too loose to be kept out of the way and yet too tight to billow around his shoulders like he had just emerged from bed. Not that it helped matters since Allen was determined to treat it like it _was_ rope, using his own appendage against him if he wanted something, or tossing it over his shoulder so he could trail kisses distinctively downwards.

Other times Allen would grow bored with the slow pace of the day and start braiding it and Kanda would sigh and give up, because he really had nothing better to do with himself either.

'Oi, don't _pull_ like that, idiot sprout,' he growled, leaning back, flicking Allen's forehead with his finger, earning a yank to his hair in reply. 'Bastard, you're not doing it right.'

'Shut up. M'practicing,' the younger exorcist said distractedly, frowning in concentration as he gathered the loose ends and bound them together.

'Practicing…?' Kanda repeated. 'I haven't got any hair ties with me.'

'Oh that's ok,' Allen replied absently, looping a bow around the base of the braid. He kissed the loose hair that flowed down past Kanda's ear. 'I borrowed some of Rinali's ribbons.'

When Allen pulled at his hair during sex, whimpering and arching his back like a bow, Kanda had hissed at him, a low, growling noise rumbling deep in his chest and nipped him, reminding the sprout that if he even dared to rip any off his skull, there'd be hell to pay afterwards. Though at the time, he had been pretty sure Allen had misread that little warning as Kanda's own way of voicing his arousal.

It really was ironic when he started to become more than a little fascinated himself, dark eyes fixed on deepening, lusty blue, framed by shock white strands standing out in stark contrast to his own hair, which at some point or another would come loose of its tie and spill out over Allen's back or chest, spreading like liquid marble and sticking to sweat slicked torsos and reddened cheeks.

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Allen liked to have Kanda in a complete lockdown when he came, crossing ankles behind his back and squeezing hard to bring him closer, arms around his neck, nose buried in Kanda's damp, sticky hair, mouthing his flushed cheek and inhaling deeply, liking very much the suffocating feeling of the strands flowing over his cheeks and lips and eyelashes. He grew giddy then, dizzy and high on the musky scent of sex, Kanda and the 'soap' he used to wash his hair.

'Kanda…?'

Glare. '_…what_?'

Allen sighed and sat up. So much for cuddling in the afterglow.

He wrapped his arms around his blanket-covered knees and stared back at the older exorcist. Face half-obscured by both pillows and hair, Kanda looked annoyed, exhausted and handsome. Allen smiled slowly at that narrow expression and smoothed the sweat-stuck locks away from his eyes, only to have his wrist captured.

'I want to _sleep_ beansprout. If this is another one of your attempts to engage in post-coital pillow talk…' he warned. Allen blinked at him. Kanda glared at him for a little longer, sighed and sunk deeper into the pillows. 'Do you have some sort of weird fascination with my hair…?'

He didn't know whether to be irritated or mortified when Allen flushed in embarrassment. '…it's nice,' the younger exorcist said quietly, shyly.

'Nice.' Kanda deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't amused. Allen grinned, his face still pink.

'It suits you,' he said earnestly. When the raven-haired exorcist began to roll his eyes in disbelief, muttering under his breath, Allen frowned and crawled on top of him, glaring down. '_Hey_! Don't you dare dismiss me like that Kanda Yuu,' he said darkly.

'You have a hair fetish,' Kanda replied flatly. He stroked the palms of his hands along Allen's hips and across his thighs, feeling the exorcist sitting in his lap bristle with indignation.

'I do _not_!' Allen exclaimed, outraged. 'What do you take me for, some kind of freak…?' He paused. 'Don't answer that.' Kanda shrugged his broad shoulders, eyes at half-mast.

'A _cursed_ freak,' he supplied in a bored tone. Allen glowered at him with looks fit to kill. Hands balanced on Kanda's shoulders he leaned down, far enough that their lips brushed together when he spoke.

'Alright, I'll let you get away with that part,' he said. 'But I do _not_ have a hair fetish!' He prodded the Sanskrit symbol with his finger, lips threatening to form a pout. 'It has _nothing_ to do with that, you dumbass! You want to know? Fine! I just think that long hair makes you look really sex-'

He paused in mid-sentence and froze, clapping his hands over his mouth, eyes wide in alarm. Kanda stared as he turned tomato red and scrambled away from his lap, scooting to the opposite end of the bed. Slowly, pondering the words, he sat up and turned his head, his expression betraying nothing.

'Did you just say that you think I'm…sexy?' he questioned, mouth pulled down at one corner.

'No!' Allen exclaimed frantically, flailing his arms. 'No…I mean, yes…no wait I…! I never said you were…were…_that_!' he hissed.

Kanda shrugged. 'What, _sexy_…?'

'_No_!' Allen cried, clapping his hands over his ears, flushing deeper. 'Just…_stop_ already! Don't say that word again!'

The raven-haired exorcist made no move to change his expression, but Allen could see the warmth in his dark eyes, and the obvious amusement there. And somehow, that made him feel worse.

'You think I'm sexy.' It wasn't a question. Allen started squirming uncomfortably. It was a big effort not to want to grin at that – in all the time he had known the young, white-haired exorcist, never had Kanda imagined Allen using such slang as 'sexy', and to describe him no less.

_So cute_, he thought, tilting his head and smirking knowingly at the sprout, the dreamier, more supressed side of his nature suddenly forming a truce with his practical side, deciding that Allen Walker needed to be jumped and taken advantage of as soon as possible.

'_I never said that_!' Allen argued shrilly, his British accent becoming thicker and more noticeable in his embarrassment. Kanda shook his head and slid closer to him, staring into his face. Carefully, he brushed knuckles along the plane of Allen's cheek, feeling the hot surface.

'No you didn't,' he agreed, thumbing the soft flesh. His dark eyes bore deep into Allen's own. 'But you were thinking it.' He pressed lips against Allen's, whispering.

'No, wait…_Kanda_…' Allen said softly, still partially mortified, pressing back into the covers as he felt the older exorcist looming over him. He pulled away from the kiss and laid back, eyes tracing every contortion of his lover's body.

Kanda nuzzled his collarbone with deliberate slowness, dotting kisses across Allen's chest. 'So if I cut my hair short,' he said conversationally, trailing off. He glanced sidelong at the other exorcist.

Allen looked at him, eyes wide in disbelief, unsure of the seriousness of the situation. Kanda noted how one hand had unconsciously strayed to grasp a fistful of his hair as it hung over his shoulder, his smirk widening as if to say _See? I told you so_.

'You _can't_,' Allen said in a very firm tone. Kanda raised his head and looked questioningly at him.

'You just can't. You'd look more like a _girl_ that you already-'

--------

Allen whimpered when Kanda sank teeth into his shoulder, drawing blood and sloppy kisses, thrusting roughly, deeply. Fingernails scraped against his hips and tangled in his hair.

Now he remembered why exactly Kanda got to top, why there was _definitely nothing_ feminine about him and why he was now detecting a kink for rough sex.

Somehow, he got the feeling that this wasn't so much sex as it was Kanda reminding him of his place in this relationship and that his little comment deserved proper punishment.

He wouldn't be able to walk or sit straight for a week.

The next day, Allen vowed, wincing from bruises and bite marks in places he never knew existed, he was going to enquire with the priest about taking a _vow of silence_.

And because this whole ordeal was Kanda's fault to begin with, he was going to ask about taking one for chastity.

Allen grinned wickedly.

That would teach the bastard.

END

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A/N: Finally de-lurked because more fic is needed for this wonderful pairing. Then again, it's my first try writing Allen/Kanda so I hope it's not too terribly OOC. ;

Even though I have absolutely no idea if the word 'sexy' was even around in the 19th century, it was perfect cos I just can't see Allen saying something like that, least of all to describe Kanda. xD So yes, I did bully him a little here.

And I won't lie about this - Kanda's hair truly does intrigue me. So long and black and shiny...preeeeetty. Must...touch...it. Lucky Allen - he's getting away with murder here.


	2. Cold Hands

**Title:** This Saving Grace  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** some SPOILERS for Chap. 92 and upwards

**Summary:** AU-ish. Kanda recovers after the battle with the Noah. Some fluff at the end.  
**Theme:** #01: Cold Hands

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The first thing Kanda noticed when he opened his eyes, was that he could no longer see.

The world, it seems, had become an unfocused blur of static noise in his unconsciousness. His shoulder gives an involuntary twitch and he has to grit his teeth as a hot swooping pain zigzags down his spine and branches off into what feels like every last tiny nerve ending in his body.

He blinks and sees the crackle of electricity behind his eyelids, feels the pinprick tingles scatter across his skin, skin that consequently smells like burnt flesh, though only in memory. Just the thought of it makes his heartbeat pulse under his ribs, the black etchings of his Sanskrit tattoo itching as he thinks of phantom wounds that were no longer there.

His lips part, he's breathing, shallowly perhaps, but still _breathing_, so he thinks he can safely deduce he's alive…in a manner of speaking. His throat however is constricted and tight – it seems words will be a luxury he won't be easily able to afford.

He blinks again, narrows his eyes – the shadows are separating from the hard light. Too bright, he thinks, and tries to turn his head away. The dark, while it made him feel blind, was nonetheless soothing in comparison.

Kanda exhales through his mouth, his chest rising and falling with a shudder. He can only be _healing_; surgery never feels like your entire insides are trying to rearrange themselves in alphabetical order. Colour coded. _Twice_.

'…told you…let me stay…never listen…idiot.'

Finally, Kanda thinks. Some clarity. His focus is still off, but he's heard that tone often enough that even being half dead doesn't deter his logic.

'Beansprout.' His voice is alien to his own ears; it sounds like a chain being forcibly dragged through gravel.

The shadows shift – he can see the blue of Allen's eyes now, however distorted, and he's close enough that his breath is warm against the cold of his cheek. Allen blinks down at him and he notices that his eyelashes are dusty white, like powder snow. Kanda thinks he must be really far gone to be staring so intently, groans low in his chest and looks away.

'Kanda,' Allen says quietly, his tone soft and surprised, almost reverent, as if conversing to someone on their deathbed. It irked him but he'd be damned if he tried rising to announce otherwise – his neck feels brittle and his joints ache something awful enough that he's actually _worried_ something will snap if he tries moving it too soon.

So he scoffs and tries to scowl, but his muscles seem to be against him. 'Not the _face_,' he hisses, managing a frown. 'I'm still alive you idiot.'

'_Hardly_,' the other exorcist mutters, and Kanda is grudgingly inclined to agree. He doesn't know how he survived and quite frankly he didn't dwell on that thought for longer than a minute. If fortune was going to unexpectedly favour his odd chances of survival he certainly wasn't about to complain.

The younger boy huffs and Kanda can't tell if he's amused or relieved. Then he shakes his head and says 'You look pathetic,' and Kanda silently wishes he could move his arm and punch him in the face.

A flash of black passes over his eyes – he's passing out he thinks, that's why he can't see – but then it settles solidly on his forehead, thin but weighty. The long silvery claws of Allen's cursed hand scrape his skin gently as they run feather-light across his face, tracing scars and bone structure, travelling down to skirt across his neck, his ribs, his stomach, before returning to rest, palm flat, over his heart.

This hand, while as unnatural as its previous form, looks and feels like any other hand, only the claw like fingers are hard like metal, the 'skin' underneath smooth and burnished. But it was slick with cold sweat and the unexpected chill made Kanda jerk, wincing almost imperceptibly as something in his back gave way.

The touch fled. Kanda, left with an icy imprint on his torso and a pounding ache in his spine, turned with a glare. Allen was cradling his left hand to his chest, eyes to the side. He looked faintly embarrassed.

'What?' Kanda demanded. _Your hand's cold; keep it to yourself_, he felt like adding, but he honestly didn't have the energy for such a sentence. He sees the thin outline of Allen's black clad shoulders shift as he shrugs.

'Nothing…' he says, smiling in that painfully false way that meant "nothing" suggested that disfigured, cursed hand had caused years of ridicule, grief and abandonment.

Or maybe he was reading too much into this.

Either way, that look in the younger exorcist's eyes – that utter _void_ – that wasn't Allen Walker at all.

It pissed him off.

'You really _are _an idiot,' He sneers, even though it hurts to make his mouth curl like that. It is damn well worth it.

Allen flushes angrily; the pink of his cheeks stark against his shock white hair. Kanda's vision is clearing – so he looks upon Allen's indignant spluttering with satisfaction. It's not much, but there's a sign of _life_ in those eyes at the least.

Allen is covered in scratches and bruises, but he has miraculously come under no major harm – hell if he did, he wouldn't be sitting here crossed legged and glowering down at Kanda to begin with.

A part of him wants to know what happened after the group had broken away from his fight with the Noah, but presently, he can't really bring himself to care.

He can feel ghost lightning sparking at his fingertips; his Innocence pulses against his hip where his katana rests; thrumming with slow energy. Kanda feels it and thinks about his fight with the Noah Skin Boric; in the end he is torn between being smugly triumphant and in enough pain that he's severely fractious.

'Kanda…?' Allen gives him a strange, appraising look. He sits with his hands in his lap and leans over him, frowning.

'_Healing_,' he grunts, tilting his head back and scowling at nothing in particular. The ground under his head is soft, not hard and rocky and Kanda thinks he might just have to sit up and trump Allen Walker when he is able to move again because he's had it up to here with the brat using exorcists' coats as makeshift pillows. He wasn't a _goddamn_ girl, this sort of caretaking was unnecessary.

_Sweet_, he'd be damned if he ever admitted to it, but _strongly_ unnecessary.

'Oh,' Allen says, in the sort of way one does when they don't really understand but think it polite to agree anyway. His blue eyes are wide and curious. Then he smiles and says very matter-of-factly,

'I'm glad you're not dead Kanda.'

'Hnn,' he replies noncommittally. He glances to the side, worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, and then tries to move his hand. It _hurt_, it really did, but he still couldn't _reach_. Allen didn't notice.

'Really,' he was going on. 'You're lucky you're not, or I'd have to kick your ass so hard-'

Kanda moved his elbow. Pain shot down his arm like a bolt. He grimaced, but dug his nails into the gritty dirt and pulled his hand forward. He didn't stop until his fingers threaded through those hard, metal claws. Allen blinked as his own hand jerked and stared down at him.

'Kanda, what are you…?' Allen placed his flesh hand on top of Kanda's, interlacing with both the elder exorcist's and his own left hand. _Cold_. Kanda made a face. He squeezed Allen's fingers with as much strength as he could muster.

'I'm _fine_ beansprout,' he said flatly. 'Seriously. So_ stop_ worrying. It's making your hands freeze. And I will _not_ have you touching me with _cold sweaty hands_. It's disgusting.'

He didn't know just how the beansprout might interpret that, but whatever he said, or mistakenly said, it made Allen absolutely beam.

Chapped lips pressed softly against his nose and Kanda had the strong impression Allen did on purpose just because he couldn't fend it off.

'I _knew_ you wouldn't die Kanda,' he whispered and squeezed back.

Kanda narrowed his eyes. 'Sprout, I'm going to pretend you didn't just do that,' he said.

'Alright,' Allen said and kissed him again.

'The fact that you're _enjoying_ this just isn't healthy.'

**[END**

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A/U: Kanda hasn't appeared in probably what, the last 20 or so manga chapters? xD; I'm getting withdrawal symptoms. Thus a semi-AU fic was born :D 


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